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CALL 1-800-882- 288 4 1{tral b:. ribunt DELIVERED DAILY THROUGHOUT THE AMERICAS GALAPAGOS You, 9 other adventurers and our licensed natural- ist will sail by yacht to explore more islands than any other Galapagos expedition 60 trip dates Machu Picchu option. Free brochure. Inca Floats 510-420-1550 1311-Y 63rd St., Emeryville CA 94608 Garden Furnishings & Arbors Interior & Exterior Use Free shipment from stock Country Casual 17317 Germantown Rd. Suite 216 Germantown, MD 20874 - 2999 64 page colour catalogue $3.00 1-301-540-0040 took off his cap. "They shaved my head for me to wear a thin white hairpiece for the movie," he said, running his hand over his pate. He held his walking stick, in his left hand, as though it were a baseball bat. "N ow let me explain to you how to hit a baseball," he said, talking fast, confidently, belligerently. "It's a lost art. Ever since Babe Ruth started hitting home runs, the skill, the art, and the sci- ence have been lost. You see, the bat is like a wand, a magic wand." He swung the walking stick. He was Ty Cobb, giving his lines. "Hitting a baseball is re- ally very easy. You can't force it. You can't overpower it. You go with the pitch. You let the bat do the work. It's all rhythm and flow" He swung the stick again. "I've been trying to do Mr. Cobb's bunt right down the first-base line," he said. "The pitcher would come in to make the play, get caught in the right-of-way, and Mr. Cobb would cut him in two." "Tommy does not try to make you like Cobb, this violent, hard-drinking, hated man who was a genius," Ron Shelton said to me later that day. "But Tommy makes you care about Cobb." The next day, Jones and Shelton met in one of the hotel rooms comman- deered by the production crew, in order to select a cane for Mr. Cobb to carry. Jones, costumed in nineteen-forties tweed pants and red suspenders, a blue shirt with a high white collar, a loud red necktie, and a Burberry cap, handled the possibilities. "Let's give these names," he said, with Mr. Cobb-like authority. 'We have a silver horse head, we have the shillelagh look, we have deer antlers. For the cane du jour, we tend to favor those with animals. Let me see the bulldog." "Looks like a medieval beast," Shel- ton said. "I like the dog," Jones said. Jones moved to another office nearby, to select more wardrobe for Mr. Cobb. He sang and whistled to himself while considering pajamas offered him by Ruth Carter, a quiet, poker-faced woman, who was the costume designer. She showed him pajamas decorated with yellow pintail ducks on a red back- ground and pajamas with brown cow- boys and broncos on a blue background. "1 prefer the ducks," Jones said, hold- ing the pajamas up against him. "Mr. THE NEW YORKER, APRIL 4, 1994 Cobb-this elegant man, this powerful man-is deciding to go on a road trip. His valet has quit. So Mr. Cobb starts throwing stuff in suitcases." Now Ruth Carter offered Jones a jacket, and he tried it on. "Mr. Cobb's going to wear these duck pajamas with this burgundy-and-black hounds- tooth jacket," Jones said. "He wants this jacket. The jacket's a good look, a real good look. Combining it with the duck pajamas makes perfect sense to him. It doesn't make any difference, because he's Mr. Cobb anyway." Ruth Carter offered Jones a black hat, and he said, "This homburg has a good shape. Reblock it so that the crown has more body." He tried on a black suit with white pinstripes. "Great look, great look," he said. Over the suit he put on a large black double-breasted chester- field with black velvet pocket flaps and a black velvet collar. He put on the homburg, and said, "I like the hat; I like all of it. Mr. Cobb wants to be timelessly elegant. Mr. Cobb has got a pistol in this pocket" -he lightly slapped the right pocket-"and he's got thirty- five thousand dollars in cash in the other." He slapped the left one, and said, "This old man, with his white hair and his latex face. Mr. Cobb is ready to go to the casino and gamble." Jones picked up the walking stick with the bulldog head. "Plus, if Mr. Cobb gets in trouble he can whack his way out of it," he added. He took off his forties outfit, put on his jeans, laced up the low black boot for his left leg, and replaced the brace on his right. He put on a black vinyl windbreaker with white letters spelling out "Harvard Polo," but he was still breathing Cobb. ''You come to the re- hearsal, Ruth!" he said bossily to the costume designer. "To the testimonial dinner! All the great ones will be there." He was giving her his lines. "The great Mickey Cochrane will be there. You're gonna meet great athletes, great war- riors, great men at the Hall of Fame d . " Inner. That night, Jones said as we parted, 'We had a meeting with the costume department and found some good gam- bling clothes and walking sticks. We re- hearsed in the Frank Sinatra room at the Cal Neva. I finished the first draft of 'The Good Old Boys' at a mere hundred and forty-five pages and sent it to be